Numbers
by EpicInTheLibrary
Summary: "There's a glow in his chest; he got Kendall." James/Kendall
1. 11:11

_JAMES ANGST! Because I can't remember how I got the idea, that's why. Well, the first half was just because. But I finished it because my soul matest soul mate One Man Writing Games (go read her stuff now omg) LOVES James, especially the angsty kind so I finished it mainly for her. YAY SOULMATESHIP HIGH FIVE 8D_

_So without further ado, here goes the angst. *gestures broadly*_

* * *

Kendall is not easy to get alone.

There's something for him to do every day, someone to be with, somewhere to be. There's all four of them together, all the time. Inseparable, except for the times they need to be alone. The seldom times they pair off on separate adventures. Those times don't happen so often. James kind of wishes they did.

His infatuation is uncontrollable, unbridled and unending. It's kind of like a white elephant gift. Something completely uncalled for, and he just doesn't know what to do with it. There's nothing he _can_ do with it. It's useless, it's obnoxious, and it feeds off of his energy. A parasite, that's what it is. He desperately wants it to leave, to die, to cease to exist, but it's not like that. It won't stop, ever, and it's killing him, very slowly, enough for it to thrive within him. A parasite that tortures for entertainment. The devil's craftsmanship, surely.

So yeah, he doesn't know what to do with it. He needs help. Which is why he finds himself standing nervously in the doorway of Kendall's room as he hurries around, evidently getting ready to go out somewhere. He always is. James supposes he's like that, too- well, usually. Lately, not really. He's been thinking too much. Wondering. Contemplating. What should he do?

He almost forgets to actually say something. In fact, he does. It's Kendall who introduces his presence.

"You gonna stand there all day?"

James shakes himself into awareness. "Um, no." Kendall raises an eyebrow at him and turns back to what he's doing; over his shoulder he asks James what he wants as he rifles through the closet he shares with Logan to find his shoes, one of which hangs from his hand while the other searches for its counterpart. What does he want? He watches listlessly as Kendall's hand flips through the countless other pairs of Vans he could be wearing instead, thinking hard. He wants to talk, that's what. And if he's gonna do it, he has to do it right now, because he's wasting all his time thinking about it. He swallows nervously and tentatively steps into the room. "Um," he says, trying to buy more time, which he kind of doesn't have the money for. "I wanted to talk."

Kendall turns slightly to glance at him, and he winces slightly inside. "Do you have a minute?"

"Yeah," Kendall exhales, running the fingers of one hand through his hair, the one that happens to be holding the shoe. It slaps against his cheek and he offers it a quick glare before tossing it over his shoulder. James catches it, holding it with both hands as he wets his lips. This is not going to take a minute. Why did he ask for a minute? He needs thirty minutes, maybe forty. He doesn't know for sure, but it's definitely not going to be _a _minute. This thought causes him to falter and he looks down, scratching at his arm slightly.

"Where are you going?" he asks on impulse. He needs more time. He can't do this, he needs- more time. This has to work out, and Kendall's mind isn't on this. It's on finding his other shoe, and James does not want to talk about shoes. Kendall turns again at the question and gives him a look.

"Just- I don't have a lot of time, so seriously, what do you want?" James falters again and shakes his head.

"Nothing. It's- nothing, man." His fingers clench slightly around the shoe and he bites down on his tongue. Kendall, having moved from the closet to the floor under the bed, puts the sheet down and straightens up, attention now focused on James. He flinches a little on the inside at the look in his eye.

"James," he says seriously. "Is there something wrong?"

"No. It wasn't important. I just- wanted to ask if you were gonna watch that show with me tonight. You know- after you get back from wherever you're going?" James never said anything about a show previously. There is no show, he's just making it up. He's not doing a very good job, because Kendall gives him a strange look as his eyebrows furrow. "I- I didn't tell you about the show?"

"No," Kendall confirms, shaking his head. "What show?"

"Just-" Oh god, what is he supposed to say? "I don't know," he resigns, biting his lip in shame. "I just wanted to do something with you. I'm sorry." Kendall hates liars. Kendall hates liars. James lied. James is a liar.

Kendall's eyes gain understanding and he smiles easily. "You could've just said that. Sure, we can do something later. I'm free tonight." The breath catches in James' throat and he suddenly feels wound tight, maybe a little put on the spot.

"Ok-kay," he stutters pathetically. He chest has a warm, weak flickering glow. He wants it to last. "Okay, thanks." Kendall smiles and pulls something off of the bed- his missing shoe.

"Anything for you. Now look, I have to go, but I'll see you later, okay?" James nods, smiling just a little bit, and Kendall takes the shoe still clutched in his fingers, tossing it back towards the closet. "Bye," he says on his way out, and James is too unfocused to return it. Before he knows it, Kendall has gone, but it doesn't really matter.

There's a glow in his chest, and he likes it. _He got Kendall._

...

It's eleven o'clock at night, and James is gone. Completely, totally, utterly gone.

Kendall has been out for six hours and twelve minutes. James wishes he had asked what he was going to be doing, because then he might have been more prepared for something like this.

He'd been expecting eight, maybe eight thirty or nine at the latest. But nothing like this. When it got to be nine thirty he began to wilt, the little flame in his chest going out with a tiny, effortless puff of smoke that went on to fill his lungs and cloud him over so he didn't even know himself anymore. It became glowing red numbers and moments ticking by and unanswered questions, but the last one wasn't his fault. He just never heard them until ten minutes after they were asked. Ghosts of one-sided conversations, and by the time he got to them the askers were already gone.

He spent the time waiting, waiting, for nothing. Because he wanted, and he thought he was going to get it. Because Kendall told him he was going to get it. But now, now he's not so sure anymore. He had words, laced together into sentences, combed through over and over again to make sure they fit just right, silky smooth, until he was ready to let them out. Feel them swirl up his throat and spill over his tongue, shaping them perfectly so they would come out like velvet. But the strong confidence he had before, it just withered and died. It's gone now, and James is curled up on the livingroom couch with his chin neatly tucked into arms embracing bent knees because there was nothing else to embrace. The tears, they don't really matter. Nothing really matters, it seems. Maybe just the gaping empty cavity gouged right through his center, impaling his trust and will. The blood drips and rolls in sharp beads down his forehead into his eyes, clearing everything out of his vision to make room for deep, crimson red.

It doesn't seem fair. Why should he have to feel this way? Why does it feel like a relationship to him? Like a date, and he's been stood up? That's not what it was supposed to be. It was just friends being friends, and obviously Kendall found some better friends, because otherwise he would be here right now and there wouldn't be tear tracks etched into his cheeks. He's not even watching for the door anymore. He just has his eyes trained dutifully on the clock, the red numbers, the flashing colon in between, the slowly changing numbers. The eleven, the zero, the two. That's how it is. Eleven, zero, two. Now it's zero. Possibly even in the negatives, because James no longer knows what to do with himself. He had it all planned out, and it was all shot down. And on top of it all, it hurts. God, does it hurt.

Eleven, zero, three. The door to the apartment swings open, but its attempt to gain attention is all for nothing, because James just keeps staring at the clock. He supposes he's been at it for so long that he's just plain turned into a statue. But really, if he hadn't had so much time, it probably wouldn't have happened.

The door closes, and it sounds almost halting to James. Like the person who walked in just realized that he's home way past curfew and if he's not quiet his mom will kill him. Or maybe he thinks James is asleep and is trying to be quiet for him. Even though James is in a sitting position. With his eyes wide open, staring blankly at nothing. Absolutely nothing.

"James." It's said with so much implied, with weight tied to the end of it, too much for James to handle right now. He's having trouble handling himself already, he doesn't need his name and a thousand unspoken thoughts squished right through the middle of it, like, "Why are you still up?" and, "I didn't expect to see you here," and, "I totally forgot," and, "I'm sorry."

I'm sorry.

Is that really what Kendall is trying to say? Or was it just simply James' name? He turns to the boy, finally, turning just his head so he can focus his gaze on his form standing in front of the door.

"Hey, Kendall," he says lightly, tone sounding a little dull in his ears. But maybe Kendall doesn't hear that, because he comes right over and sits down next to him, the couch cushion dipping down with his weight. He places his hands over his face, hunching over so his elbows dig into his thighs just behind his kneecaps.

He knows.

He knows he's done something wrong, made a terrible mistake. James isn't sure if he saw the tear tracks drawn over his cheeks yet, but he can feel remorse coming off the boy in thick, excruciating waves. He knows he has to say something to break it- or at least, he thinks he does- he just doesn't know what to say.

Finally Kendall drags his fingertips down his face and tilts up to look James in the eye.

"I'm sorry," he says, and James still doesn't know what to say. He seems so sincere, but he could be lying. After all, he lied about giving James some of his time. But then again, there's one thing James is forgetting. Kendall hates liars. And it's obvious that Kendall forgot, which isn't in any way intentional. So there's no way he's lying this time. He hates liars, why would he lie?

"It's okay," James answers after a painfully long stretch of silence, voice wavy and hard to keep a hold on. If Kendall didn't see the tears, he sees them now. Pain shines in his eyes along with deep regret and almost hurt. "At least you came home." And that's all that really matters, right? Because no matter the circumstances, Kendall will always be James' whole world. No matter how much he unintentionally hurts him, no matter how deep the ache in his chest, Kendall will always be the only one he really cares about. Nothing will ever change that.

Kendall is staring at him with a flicker of disbelief, and James wonders what he's done this time. Kendall speaks, "James, no. No, it's not okay. What... Why would you even think that?" His voice is strained, full of pain, and James blinks, confused. Why should Kendall be hurt? And why is he denying that everything's okay? Because it is. James was worried because Kendall wasn't home, but now he is. So everything is okay.

"It really, really is," James falters, thinking hard. Ghosts of memories are slipping into the fog of his mind, clearing up and making their presence known. They're like the conversations from before, coming into his conscience late. But this time they're hours instead of minutes late, and they're harmful to his being.

_Mrs. Knight telling him his dinner is ready, coming over when he doesn't respond and asking if he's okay. His eyes remain still and glassy, his chest rising and falling smoothly and rhythmically. Eight, four, seven. Mrs. Knight setting a plate of food on the table in front of him out of his peripheral vision. Wishing him a good night. Hoping he feels better. Worry etched into the tired lines of her face. His eyes are fixed on the numbers. Eight, four, eight._

James' gaze falls upon the plate, still sitting on the table before him. The food is old and dried, a result of being left untouched for so long. Hours. Soft guilt laces within him at the sight. Then another memory fades through the veil.

_Tears rolling down his face, seemingly harmless with their quiet, barely noticeable demeanor. He feels them clearly, though, and his body shakes with silent sobs as his arms clench around his knees. Fingers, a soft palm, running down his back, smoothly and gently, slowly making their way down with the lightest pressure as a thumb rubs circles as it goes. Reaching the bottom and just as easily starting back up. Tremors coursing through his muscles, pulses shaking his lungs and making his breaths come out scratched and broken. Leaning into the touch subconsciously, unable to see or feel anything but those numbers, blood red. Nine, five, six._

Logan. It was Logan, he remembers. Came and asked him things, got no answer. He came at nine seventeen and stayed until ten-oh-five. Logan cares. Kendall does, too. But Logan was there.

"James, no, it's not." Words are coming back to him again, but now just seconds after they were said. He's catching up. He's not sure if he wants to. Kendall is still fixed on him, eyes pouring regret and that same pain. James wishes it would stop. "Please stop saying that. You're... not okay." That doesn't seem like the way Kendall wanted to end that sentence, but it's how it happened. Does that mean he lied, or was it just another accident?

"Kendall," James says, and his voice breaks. He weakens. He feels them again, prickling tightly in his throat and behind his eyes. They fill up, ready to slip out, but James tries to hold them back. "I'm fine." Breaks again on 'fine,' and the tears are out. Down his cheeks, towards his chin. Come back, please. Stay inside where it's warm. Safe, protected from the world. From people who shouldn't see, who _can't._ Please, plea-

"James," Kendall speaks his name again, and it hurts. Deeply, it hurts. And Kendall gets really close, wrapping his arms around James and pulling him close, his touch begging him to unwind, to pull away from the stiff show of denial he's been putting on all night. And he does, uncurling himself so he can slip his arms around Kendall in return and hold him close, having finally found something else to embrace, something he'd been looking for the whole time.

He cries.

He cries into Kendall, letting it all out, everything. Not just tonight, not just yesterday, but _everything._ All of the tension he's ever felt, the abandonment, the tight forbidden boundaries he was never allowed to cross, and still isn't. He cries, maybe even sobs. Kendall's name, over and over, because it's the only thing he has. The only thing he's ever had. But then his name changes, molds itself over his tongue into something else, something entirely different. A statement, a truth, a trio of words, so overused they don't mean anything except to the person saying them.

_I love you._

But James is crying, and he only said it once, so he doesn't think Kendall heard. God, he hopes Kendall didn't hear. His heart races and he sobs, and Kendall holds him close, strong grip handling him carefully, just the way he needs to be handled. And he thinks, I'm okay. I'm fine. Because now he is. Kendall is here, and Kendall cares about him.

_Eleven, one, ten._

Kendall cares. That's all he can really ask for.

_Eleven, one, one._

_Because eleven eleven is when you make a wish? Yeah? -shot in the head-_

_I gave him a happy-ish ending because I always do that because I hate sad endings. But I guess I kind of like this, even though it's not at all what I had planned. It went in its own direction, and you know, I'm okay with that. I like the whole theme of time, but that's just me. Tell me what you think? (aka PLZ REVIEW. ;3; )_


	2. 3:36

_So I didn't get everything I wanted done in the first part, so here's a second part. And then it turned into a three-part story. So expect another one soon. Numbers doesn't really fit as the title anymore... I'll have to make that tie in again at the last part._

* * *

It's three thirty-two when James wakes up, and Kendall is still sitting on the couch, the part perpendicular to the one James is taking up. He doesn't remember moving to this side of the couch or even falling asleep, but now he's lifting his head from the pillows wedged into the corner of the couch and pushing himself into a sitting position, facing Kendall, who stares at his fingers as they play with each other in his lap of crossed legs, back hunched over with too much thought and a generous helping of anxiety. James tries to wipe the sleep from his eyes, but it stubbornly remains caked to his eyelids, lashes harboring drowsiness and the sandman's gift. He feels like he just waded through a pool of molasses and is now stuck in slow motion.

"You love me?"

It's said quietly, barely even murmured, but James has heard it said that everything is loud against the backdrop of silence, and it was definitely silent before he said _that._ James swallows hard and almost explodes into a fit of coughing, managing to choke it back and let out maybe one or two muffled ones. It subsides, and his whole body is strung high on a tightrope, hanging fifty feet above a tank full of man-eating sharks.

"Of course I do," he breathes all as one jumble of a word. "What kind of friend would I be if I didn't?"

Kendall sighs and they both know that wasn't good enough. That Kendall meant so much more with that simple question. And that James meant everything he's implying when he first said those three, stupid little words. He should have just kept his mouth shut. He should have just gone to bed come nine-thirty, because it was too late to do anything by then anyway. He shouldn't have even confronted Kendall in the first place. He should have just waited for fate or destiny or something to take over and let him and Kendall spend some time together, finally. He should have foreseen that something stupid like this would have happened, not just gone and messed it all up in hopes that it would all work out. Now Kendall knows, and it's irreversible. He's going to lose him. He has to fix it right _now._ Start lying.

James sighs heavily and rubs his forehead with one hand, covering his eyes before bringing it down and staring straight at Kendall. "Look, Kendall, what I said... It's not like that. I was just worried, you know? You said we could- hang out-" he tries not to trip over that part- "and then you didn't come home for- for a long time, and I thought something had happened to you, and I was just really, really worried. Maybe even a little scared. So when you finally came home, I guess I was just... Overwhelmed. I was overwhelmed and not thinking right and it just came out. I didn't mean it like that, honest. I'm sorry." He doesn't know why he added that apology to the end, but it just felt like the thing to say. Kendall still has his eyes focused on his hands, turning them over and over in his lap, his eyebrows furrowed. He doesn't speak for a while, apparently mulling it over, and it just winds James' breath tighter and tighter, lungs shrinking from the lack of oxygen as he holds his breath firmly within them, hoping to dear God, please _please_ that he'll believe him. He doesn't want to mess things up. He mentally crosses his fingers.

"So... It didn't mean anything?" he finally asks, refusing to look up from the captivating movement of his fingers crossing over each other. James shakes his head anyway.

"Nope. Not a thing."

"Okay."

There's a problem. Something wrong. It's not that James feels like he's going to explode, because the stress is winding down and his body is finally able to relax. No- it's Kendall. He's not acting relieved. He doesn't look glad to hear that, that he can finally relax, too. He actually looks like... that wasn't what he wanted to hear. Like James somehow just made things worse, despite his efforts not to. Anxiety pitches up his throat and he swallows vainly as he tries to speak again.

"...Is that okay with you?" he asks tentatively, as if he's crossing some kind of invisible line he's not supposed to. That's what it feels like, anyway.

Kendall remains unresponsive for a second or so before he suddenly starts, as if he just heard the words James spoke. Late. Like James was doing earlier.

"What? Oh, no, yeah, it's fine. I'm fine- I mean." And he just stops, like his thought process broke. Right in the middle of his sentence. James waits in agitation for him to make another move, and he thinks, Kendall hasn't looked at him for the whole time since he woke up. Just his hands, like there's a tiny universe there he can just stare at, watching all the little people go about their business, washing tiny clothes and making tiny food and getting tiny jobs and getting paid tiny money. And he can manage it all, maybe even start over with just one scoop of his hands. One shift, cross, twist. He must not like his tiny universe very well, though, because his hands are constantly moving, shaping, molding everything into something he can approve of. Finally they just slow to a stop, and Kendall sighs, coming back into animation.

"It's late," he comments, as if it were simply the weather. James doesn't know what to say. "I'm gonna go to bed." His voice cracks on the last word, but that's probably just because he's tired. James' voice does that too after a long, exhausting day of chords and bridges and just singing his heart out. They both just need rest, so he nods and Kendall unfolds his legs, standing and making his way over to the bedrooms, still not looking at James. James watches him the whole time, until he's out of sight. Then he sighs heavily and lets himself thud back onto the couch.

What did he do wrong?

* * *

_James missed the underpants gnomes. Also Kendall has Sims in his hands. That is all. _


	3. 7:00

_Wow, my shortest update ever. Same day as the last. I was going to wait until Friday, but One Man Writing Games made me submit it today so. It doesn't even count, though, because it's like nine forty, so. This is the longset part, more than the first two combined. Which makes is more than half of the story. It's really really really cliche and horrible and corny but please bear with me because I kind of like it. I have to, I worked all day on it._

_Also, I just wanted to shout out a HUGE HUGE HUUUUGGEE apology to RyDeNiSlOvE AGAIN because I KNOW you just wrote something with a beach scene but I didn't even realize it until like halfway through when I already had everything planned out and I felt SOSOSO bad for it and I swear, I am going to stop subconsciously stealing all of your stories, okay? I swear, it'll never happen again. EVER. EVEREVEREVER. I LOVE YOU OMG._

_I'm a horrible person._

* * *

A day or two goes by- James isn't really paying attention. Kendall hasn't spoken to him for real since- well. Since what? James isn't sure what exactly happened that night. It seems like he dreamed it, because he can't remember details and nothing has happened directly because of it. Well, except for Kendall's change in behavior.

To anyone else, it would seem like everything's fine. They goof around, get into trouble, practice and record songs with Gustavo and Kelly, but- nothing's really the same at all. Kendall talks to him, of course he talks to him. He talks to all of them just the same. But it's like, whenever he turns to look at James, he gets this certain look in his eye, like something got caught in there. It's tight and reserved and whenever James tries to get a closer look at it it shrinks back and harbors itself behind the cloudy charade Kendall has at the ready. They aren't as close as they were before, and James sincerely hopes that they're not falling apart. They can't fall apart. Not just for him, but for everyone else. Logan, Carlos, Gustavo. If Kendall and James fall apart, well, everything else falls apart. That can't happen.

Obviously Kendall realizes this too, because on the third day, he comes up and asks James if he still wants to hang out, because he feels bad about forgetting the other night. James tries not to let himself feel warm inside again, because just look what happened last time. It's a bad omen. He casually agrees. He knows that they're just skimming along on thin ice, everything between them boiling and locked up beneath the fragile sheet of crystalized water, waiting for one of them to hit a breaking point so it can all geyser out and sweep them into its chaotic whirlpool and swallow them whole. James doesn't want to drown, but he knows how to swim if it comes down to that. So yeah, he agrees. And now he's alone with Kendall in the latter's room with the door closed, Logan being out somewhere and Carlos being in the livingroom with Mrs. Knight and Katie watching a movie. That should worry him, but it doesn't. What worries him is that he and Kendall are alone, and he remembers what happened last time they were in a similar situation. Maybe not very clearly, but he has the gist of it. And it was not good.

At first they try to play it safe. A hockey game playing on the television, but it's an old replay they saw a few weeks ago, so neither of them are really watching. Still, they can act. They act like they're excited, like they've never seen it before. And maybe Kendall is excited, because really, he gets excited about anything if it's hockey. James knows he's not excited. There's a knot of worry stitching itself bigger and bigger in the pit of his stomach, and it's been growing this whole time. He thinks, every second, this is it. It's going to explode. I'll say something stupid and Kendall will never talk to me again. So really, he's pretty high-strung the whole time. And then Kendall just draws it out, stretching after the game is finished and asking if he wants to go somewhere. James nods wordlessly, afraid of opening his mouth.

They go to the beach. James doesn't know why. Every time they go Kendall complains of cramps in his toes from the water and there hasn't been one beach trip in which he hasn't burnt in painful places. He complains about it nonstop until it's completely gone, and has grown to resent beach trips. But that's where he takes him, and James isn't about to complain. He loves the beach.

It's sunny, as expected, and breezy. Which is nice, because usually the wind knocks James' hair all over the place and he has to just jump into the ocean and keep his hair flat with water. This time he doesn't have his swim trunks, though, so he's fine with what they're doing now. Walking. Strolling. Whatever. There's a boardwalk running parallel to the beach filled with little shops and restaurants, and it's just overall a nice place to be. The architecture is fun to look at, colorful with pastels and clear sunshine that lights everything in just the right way. It's so easy for James to just forget everything as he walks down that street and stares at the Easter egg houses with their balconies and window walls and hears the sand crunching between his shoes and the worn wood of the walk. He finds himself smiling a lot, and it must be infectious because Kendall smiles back every time, and this time there's nothing hidden in his eyes. It seems almost easy. He feels free, like there's nothing pulling at his ankles, holding him back. Actually, it's just the back of his mind that feels heavy, but every time he succumbs to it and leans his head back, all he sees is clear blue skies caught between the roofs of the buildings, and all he can do is smile again, forgetting his worries easy as one, two, three.

They spend the better part of their afternoon window shopping and talking about small, meaningless things, but to James, it means a lot, really. That they can have this, just talking with the ease of breathing, picking on each other and maybe even laughing from time to time. It's fun, and even though nothing is solved, James is glad he gets to have this little snippet of paradise; just him, Kendall, and nobody else.

It gets to be five thirty and they both start to get hungry, so they get to go into one of those little restaurants they were looking at earlier. It's got seafood, which James doesn't have all that often. He gets to try lobster for the first time. Kendall laughs at how he stares it down like he doesn't know how to eat it and guides him through, because obviously he's had some in the magical land of I've-tried-every-single-food-ever-Kendall-land. Whatever, it's good. And their seat has a good view of the ocean, which is really cool because the sky is just starting to light up pink and the water is bright with a million reflections of the setting sun, pure white and shining so that James can't look at it for more than a second. The image imprints itself on his eyelids so that whenever he closes his eyes he can see its ghost.

When they finish eating they decide to go walking on the beach. James holds his socks and shoes in his hands so that he can feel the sand between his toes, rolling his jeans up to his knees so they don't get wet. Kendall laughs and tells him he looks funny, but he just says it's nothing compared to the faces Kendall makes sometimes.

"Touché," Kendall responds easily, making a stupid face at him, James laughing before they move on.

There are little rocks and shells all over the place, the pebbles patterned with sparkling stars and the shells shining with rainbows cast by the fading light. The sky is lit up a bright, fiery orange, the sun sinking further, eager to grasp the rolling waves in its rayed fingers, sending its glow across the ripples and rifts of the water to reach just at James' feet, almost like it's pointing at him. He tells Kendall, and Kendall says it's because the sun revolves around him.

"No it doesn't, the sun stays still!" James counters. When Kendall just keeps staring at him with an amused grin stuck over his lips, he falters slightly. "...Right?"

"I was joking," Kendall laughs, and James feels stupid, but he just smiles like the dork he is and follows Kendall as he moves on to pick up something from the sand. "It looks like you," Kendall declares, turning around to show James the palm-sized rock he found. It's rugged, almost kind of square-shaped, and it's white and sparkly; basically just like all the other pebbles they found. And it does not in any way resemble James. He arches an eyebrow at Kendall in confusion until he rolls his eyes in good nature and explains, pointing to the ridges and planes of the stone, "It's shaped all spontaneous, like you, and it shines. Like you." It makes James smile on the inside, but instead of killing the fun with something sentimental or corny, he just grins lazily and gives an exaggerated fake sigh of relief.

"Oh. I thought you were calling me a vampire," he says, gesturing to the millions of tiny sparkles adorning the whiteness of the stone. Kendall smirks.

"Actually, I was. I just made up all that stuff right now." James shoves at Kendall's shoulder and swoops down to the sand to snatch up a rainbow shell.

"Well then this looks like you," he announces with finality. "It's colorful and full of pride, like you."

"Aw, really?" Kendall clasps his hands together and bats his eyes, likening himself even more to the shell. James grins.

"Nope. You're just really gay."

"Well you're sparkly!"

James chases Kendall all the way down the beach. Well, at least until they reach a pier, smaller than the others they've been passing. It looks like it's only about twenty feet long, and not very high off the water, either. There's no one else around, so they decide to explore.

James' bare feet make wet footprints all the way down the walk, soaking into the already sea sprayed wood. There are a few rocks jutting out of the water a little ways off from the end of the pier, sending the water from the waves spraying up into the air. It's not close enough to get them very wet, which is a good thing because it's getting cold, especially with the breeze still kicked in. When they reach the end they both sit down, James setting his shoes and socks to the left of him while Kendall simply sits cross-legged to his right. And they die down to silence so they can watch the sunset.

It's so... strange. It's beautiful and everything, but James feels like there's something missing. Kendall's hand in his, maybe? The romantic beach sunset kiss? He knows that'll never, ever happen, but it still feels incomplete. Maybe he should stop watching all those romantic comedy chick flicks he keeps getting into, but he can't stop. Really, what else is there to do besides totally turn yourself into a lovesick girl? It's just one step over from being a lovesick guy, and hey, what's the difference, really? Well, a lot of things. Maybe that's why Kendall wanted to get him out of the house.

He stares at the sunset, at the magnificent red-orange colors of the sky, of the blood red sun dipped halfway into the ocean, the deep waters stealing the light from the world and stretching their shadows out longer and longer until they can touch the other side of the horizon, bringing nightfall. He stares at the millions of mirror surfaces reflecting the light right back at them, sweeping gently over the waves and ripples of the ocean, swirling back to him. But it's not him, because his world does not revolve around him. It revolves around Kendall. The sun is pointing at Kendall, not him. And it's so true, because when he turns from the radiating sky to face his best friend, he finds Kendall's face lit up with orange and red and pink and clear glowing ripples of the water beneath them, and it's just... breathtaking. He's more beautiful than the sunset, and when he turns to look at James, when he focuses those _eyes_ on his, James feels himself lock into place, and he swears, if there were nothing holding him back, no ties knotted in the back of his mind, he would just kiss Kendall right here and now, holding nothing back, letting everything go. Like that night, when Kendall held him while he let everything out, except in a different way. With love instead of tears. He wants to explode in a supernova and hang onto the shards of a star, sailing out forever and ever, and he wants Kendall there, by his side. Like right now.

But he can't kiss Kendall, so he doesn't.

Instead, he just smiles and turns back to the scene before him, wishing he at least had the courage to scoot closer and lean into him. He doesn't, but hey, he's watching a sunset alone with Kendall; he'll take what he can get.

It ends all too quickly, and soon the world around him is shrouded in shadow. The water is freezing up to his ankles, so he pulls his feet out and sits with his knees bent and his arms wrapped around them, waiting for his feet to dry. The day is over, and so is their charade. He knows that. He just doesn't want to be the first to shatter the dream.

"James."

Kendall was always the brave one.

"Yeah?"

But he doesn't answer. Just stares out at the water, the vast, neverending sea. James doesn't look at Kendall, either. He thinks this might be easier if he doesn't have to look at his face. There's still a pale blue glow stroking the flat horizon where the ocean ends, so maybe the day isn't over yet. Maybe Kendall wants to wait for it to leave, so that their perfect day won't be ruined just at the very end.

Kendall sighs. "This was fun." James grins slightly and agrees.

"It was awesome."

"I..." He stops, swallowing and ending the sentence right there. I. You what? Shaking his head, he starts up again. A faint glow flickers on from behind them as the lights from the buildings and lampposts switch on for the night. It's barely there, but at least it casts a slight bit of light in their direction. It doesn't even matter, though, because Kendall is talking again. "James, I'm really sorry about the other night. I feel like the worst friend in the world."

"Kendall, it's fine," James sighs for the millionth time. "Really, it is. We already worked it out, and it's behind us now. Besides, we got to spend most of today here. I think that makes up for it hundredfold." James doesn't know why he's saying so much. Maybe he's sill living the dream, still convinced that he and Kendall can just talk as easily as they always have since practically birth. Kendall is nodding slowly, like he understands, but his next words still go against him.

"Well, yeah, but before that, too. I just..." He sighs, running a hand back through his hair and making it stick up more than it already is from the breezes they've had all day. The breezes have settled down, though, and so have Kendall and James. He finally turns to face James, and James just can't help doing the same. Kendall stares into his eyes, dead serious, and says, "James, there's a reason we haven't been hanging out like this lately."

James' breath catches in his throat, maybe stops altogether. Now his attention is focused on him more than ever. He waits in suspense, practically choking over his need to hear, to know. He waits for Kendall to compose himself, ready when he is. Eventually Kendall does speak again, and there's a slight, almost undetectable quaver in his voice, almost like- fear? But that's not right, Kendall's never afraid. Ever.

"I..." He stops to chuckle mirthlessly, shaking his head. "This is going to sound really ironic, but I like you. I... For a while now." His voice is quiet, matching the slow, gentle murmur of the tide coming in beneath the pier they sit on. "I just- was starting to get too attached to you, and I knew you would never feel the same way, so I started trying to distance myself from you. I made myself busy all the time, and I always went places you weren't. So I wouldn't have to look at you, see you when it would always remind me of... well. I just thought it would work, that I could get over it after enough time. But I didn't." He laughs again, this time maybe a little bitterly. "I was stupid, James, and it was hurting you. I'm sorry."

James doesn't know what to say. Quite frankly, he's speechless. It's a dream, right? That's his first thought. Because it's impossible to go through a perfect day and end it with a love confession from the one person he's been obsessed with for- well, at least six months. Which is a long, long time when you miss something. Before James can think of anything to say, Kendall decides to speak again. He laughs once more, shaking his head as if to berate himself.

"That night, when you said you loved me... God, I was so stupid." He sighs and pulls his knees up so they're pressed into his chest, hugging them so he's in a position similar to James', ankles crossed. When he speaks, it seems as if he's forgotten James is there and is simply talking to himself. "I thought you meant it, and I was- confused, at first. I thought I had misheard you, like you were just crying and my mind made it up on its own, because that was what it wanted to hear. But then you fell asleep and I had time to think. I convinced myself you had actually said it, and I..." He stops himself, eyes refocusing on James, throat tripping on a swallow. "Well, I was wrong," he finishes quietly, looking down and away from James' face. James still can't find the words to say, and Kendall is continuing again, speaking softly like he almost doesn't want James to hear. "I just thought you should know, because it's not fair to you that I keep doing these things just because I... And I've been keeping it in for too long, and I just had to- tell you. So I'm sorry, James. I should've told you earlier." He sighs heavily, like he just gave up something incredibly important to him, and maybe he thinks he did. Maybe he thinks James will hate him now, and that everything is going to fall apart between them and they'll never be the same again. Maybe he is scared. Fearless Kendall, afraid of telling the truth. But Kendall hates liars, so how could he keep living a lie like that? He's truthful, but James thinks maybe that was getting too far into it? Because if James had something like that to say, he wouldn't. Because that last part, that was personal. He didn't have to say that. Maybe he really, really trusts James. That thought makes James feel happy inside. But he can't dwell on that, he has to fix it, right now.

"Kendall," he finally says, voice sounding thin and unsteady to him. "I..." If Kendall was brave enough to share that, then he has to be brave, too. No matter how much Kendall hates being fake. "Kendall, I lied."

Kendall looks back up into James' eyes, surprised. "What?"

James takes a deep, shaky breath. "I was weak, and I lied. That night when I said I loved you. I lied."

"I know," Kendall murmurs. His eyes look hurt. "You told me."

"What I told you was the lie," James presses, and Kendall looks confused. It makes James' chest ache. "When I said what I said, the first time, that was the truth. But I was scared that if you found out, everything would be ruined."

"So you... lied?"

James nods, hanging his head in shame. "I thought you wouldn't like me anymore. It was stupid. I'm really, really sorry."

Kendall doesn't speak. Kendall hates liars. James lied, and it hurt Kendall. He hopes Kendall never talks to him again, because he doesn't deserve it. He wishes he could disappear, and reappear a few hours earlier, when they were exploring the boardwalk's houses together, laughing without a care in the world, perpetual smiles on their faces. Now, though, now that's all gone. Forever, even, because if Kendall never talks to him again, they'll never have fun together again. They'll never stroll down boardwalks, they'll never eat out at seafood restaurants and try new foods they don't even know how to eat, they'll never walk down the beach together, dipping down where the waves wash over their feet in the most refreshing way, they'll never share the salty scent of the ocean spray in the air, they'll never watch sunsets together on the end of a pier, all alone to keep the moment to just themselves. His fingers clench around the rock Kendall gave him, the one he said looks just like him. He doesn't care if it was a joke, it means everything to him. Kendall gave it to him. It might be the last thing he'll ever really know of him.

"So... You do love me?"

"Mhmm," James hums, unable to bring himself to speak. Kendall only hesitates another moment.

"So you wouldn't mind if we... kissed?"

James' heart leaps into his throat and pounds hard against his Adam's apple, making it bob in a sharp swallow as his breath hitches, maybe stops altogether. He finally turns back to look at Kendall, and he's just staring at him, waiting for an answer. He's not joking. He's serious. James finds his voice, croaking out a crooked, "No," and Kendall's eyes shine before he's leaning in, closing the distance between them like James imagined earlier, the thing that would make everything so absolutely perfect, and it's almost too overwhelming that it's happening for real, right here, right now. But he gets over it, telling himself to take the chance right now or it might never come up again. He shakily scoots closer like he was so afraid to do earlier and leans in, raising a hand to place on the side of Kendall's face, fingers barely brushing the golden strands of hair curling forward to meet him, and Kendall's eyes flicker shut at the touch. James barely has time to close his own eyes before they're touching in the most breathtaking way possible.

James' lips graze over Kendall's so softly it's almost not a touch, but then Kendall presses closer and every movement he makes is like a new, totally different experience for him. Maybe it's sparks, maybe it's fireworks, or maybe it's Niagra Falls crashing down on him. He can't really say, it's hard to define the experience of kissing Kendall. He swallows slowly and tries to move his lips on Kendall's, tries to let go of his worry and fear, letting the other boy guide him through because Kendall just always knows better than him. He breathes out gradually through his nose, and it's just so hard to grasp because he never thought something like this could be possible in his lifetime, or any lifetime, really. It's incredible, and he wouldn't trade it for anything else, even to relive the whole day and its carefree elation that glowed in his chest, because now he has ecstasy spreading through his body from his fingers to his toes and most prominently in his ribcage, making the bones hum happily, but it's a slow, careful kind of happiness, the tentative kind that knows it could be torn away at any given moment. But Kendall's not tearing himself away, and it just makes everything glow brighter until James is sure he's glowing on the outside, too.

They kiss until they reach the end of the world, and when they finally separate, James keeps his eyes shut, afraid of opening them and letting it end. But when he does Kendall's still there, smiling gently at him, and all he can do is smile back. It's infectious. It has been all day. And for once in his life, James has nothing gnawing at the back of his mind, nothing chewing him out, just nothing. He's free, he's weightless, and it's the best thing in the world. He embraces Kendall, shutting his eyes again, and it's perfect. The perfect day, the best day of his life. He's happy.

_Six, five nine._

_Seven._

_..._

_Yay, the end! It's seven o'clock, in case you didn't get that. At the end of the story? Seven is a lucky number? Eh? Eh. I named the story numbers, I had to make it work in the end somehow. Also, everyone please tell me how ridiculously cheesy and cliche this whole thing was, plase. In a review. Meaning review and don't just favorite. Because I got a bunch of alerts today and no reviews and it made me sad. So please, review. These stories don't just come out of nowhere, you know. There are people who work their butts off writing and editing and going over them a thousand times to make them perfect only to get a bunch of faves and alerts. So please. Review, review, review. Not just me, either. Everyone, man. Every author deserves a nice review. ;3;_


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